Tuesday, July 29, 2008

Once More Into The Fray

I'm back from yoga and in a slightly surreal space. I wonder how Richard manages to trip so lightly through life. He is so disciplined with his practice but he doesn't seem to sweat the small stuff. Or any stuff. Heck, I've never seen that guy sweat. Like ever. Which is weird in a yoga context.

I, on the other hand, have all sorts of things lying heavy on my heart. Which I just can't seem to shake.

And sometimes, when I'm tossing and turning, in the furnace of the night, I wonder...

Things are changing very quickly and part of me wants to get swept up in the tides and part of me wants to get my bearings and part of me wants to step out to the sidelines and just watch.

Ever have I been the spectator.

The solitary dreamer.

The one who writes the story.

But is seldom a part of it.

And now?

Saturday, July 26, 2008

The Squirrels Are Eating The Rambutans

It starts to rain before I've even left Selangor, and I'm very sleepy. Too many late nights. After nodding off (or nearly nodding off) at the wheel a few times, I pull up alongside a trailer at the next stop, push back my seat and take a nap.

Of course, Mums knows I'm coming back and she doesn't know what time I left which means my phone will be buzzing continuously. Not that I answer it. I've left the bluetooth device (which I never use, anyway) back in KL.

When I arise from the sleep of ages, the rain has stopped and I make my way through the traffic..which clears after Malacca. Heroes out on the road today. But I don't feel like speeding. I'm averaging 80 and the radio is set to light and easy and I'm just breathing through the journey.

Everytime I move into the overtaking lane to pass a truck that's going even slower than me, the impatient badawa rascals tailgate me, flash, flash, flash, until I get out of their way. Funny. At one time this would have agigated me. Today, I just go slower, to irritate them for being so rude.

Yeah, go on flashing, why don't you?

When I arrive outside our gate, the two dogs go crazy. Elliot is barking loudly, sounding fierce and forbidding, in case it isn't Julie (it isn't). Maggotty recognises the car (I donno how) and starts yelping. Mummy staggers out with a big grin the gate.

"Be quiet!"

The dogs subside and Elliot wraps his chain around her. She swats him away. Anyway, after much drama the gate is opened and I glide in (haha, Chubs has gone out for a movie so I get to take his place).

So I'm home to kueh teow...

Mum: I made your brother come home before going out with his friends...told him to bring back some kueh teow

which is way nice....

and tea (Mum says, hot drink, you wanna hot drink?)

which is also way nice...

and Old Christine...which is only so-so. I was not into Julie Louis Dreyfuss on Seinfeld, and guess what? Still not into her. However as I'm too lazy to change the DVD, I still through the first half of the first season, wishing I could watch The Hot Chick instead, because that's one of my favourite JB movies. I've also brought my Joan of Arcadia to watch, but too lazy.

This morning, I go to say good morning (way after afternoon when I finally emerge from the mists of Morpheus) to the doggies and realise that they're filthy. My hands are black so I say Mum, I going to bathe the patis...and she says OK. And I do. And they behave really really well, which is a surprise but I think the lack of set up for bath may have had something to do with it...they stand there and shiver as I hose them with icy water and then rub the shampoo deep into their fur. The dog getting the bath is quiet. The other one howls in jealousy. But that's OK.

They're clean now and Mums is ladling out their food.

A little later we'll be going out to fix my car. That bloody Skoda (the drunk who backed into me at the traffic lights) did some damage without me being sengaja of it. I can't open the bonnet...

I tell you ah...

Thursday, July 24, 2008

Time To Move On

I brace myself for the inevitable and still, when it comes, I feel sad.

Lost in the silence.

You look at me. You look through me.

It's as if I'm no longer there.

Perhaps I never was.

You need me like a fish needs a bicycle.

Yes, that was what I wanted. I wanted you to make it on your own. Without me. And still, it's hard to let you go.

There is so little left between us and soon, even that will pass.

Thank you for what you have given me. I forgive you for what you have done to me. And I know you will forgive me.

It's time to move on.

Wednesday, July 23, 2008

Perfect Time

Why is the measure of love loss?

Maybe if I breathe slowly, hold the image, relax into it, maybe then...

I am not ready. She's coming for me. I was stalling and she told me there would be a reckoning. She warned me.

No escape.

Child, stay awake.

Why is the measure of love loss?

It's time.

No, I'm not ready. Sometimes the wind is moist and the raindrops make me cry.

It's time.

Sometimes on a cloudy afternoon, I can hear music on the wind.

It's time.

Sometimes there is chocolate cake in the oven and a mother who smiles and lets me scrape the bowl.

It's time.

Sometimes there is a glint of warmth in the eyes of a stranger.

It's time.

Sometimes there's an afterglow.

No more words.

I'm not ready. I haven't learned it. Please...I'm not ready.

Why is the measure of love loss?

Because there is no love.

Only loss.

Wednesday, July 16, 2008

Love, Actually

I sometimes wonder what it is we're looking for.

Bliss? Peace? Love? Happiness?

All of the above?

And yet we move in these tortured circles. Same faces, same stories. Different faces, same stories. Reliving the same script over and over and over again.

When will I ever learn?

No, really.


Sunday, July 13, 2008

Peaceful Easy Feeling

As if the musical healing wasn't enough - I went for a Sekhem session yesterday. The healer said the energy was particularly blocked in my knees and shoulders. Apparently that is where we keep our beliefs and memories.

Words employed to describe me:

Kinda hard on men.

Right, right, and oh boy, right again!

She said there may some "healing reaction" after the session. There was. I imploded, became depressed and felt like that guy who pushes a stone up a mountain only to see it roll down again. And again. And again. Hasn't anything helped? Haven't I made any progress at all this year? I thought I had. But there it is - rigid, inflexible, blah, blah, blah.

As for rigid, Richard, my Yoga Nazi could have told you that...when he tries to adjust me, he says, surrender, Jennifer, surrender...and the harder I try, the stiffer I become. Four months of yoga and I've barely moved forward. I sweat a lot, which is good. But everything is still a struggle.

Then today, I decide to get rid of stuff (an impulse bubbling up from my healing session?) Anyway I fill a black garbage bag with old handbags, old shoes, old trousers. While emptying my cupboard I came across a colourful bedsheet a friend gave me as an engagement present. Decided that since my present bedsheet is being laundered, I would use this thing of mirrors and bright colours to adorn my sleeping quarters. Also I will unearth the pillowcases given by another friend as a another, yeah, you got it, engagement present.

I found the beautiful album George gave me. I leafed through it and wondered what I would put in it. Something...it will be my dream book. The most special one. Oh yeah, another thing the healer said was that I could achieve anything I put my mind to. And I wondered - as present dreams centre around being a vagabond and wandering through the highways and byways of this old dusty world, sloughing off identities, picking up stories and generally moving forward with the rest of my life.

For so long now, I've simply felt stuck. Like I was not where I was/am supposed to be. I've been easing into a new identity (altho I find it's not so new and I'm still the same old me, with the same old issues) this year.

Which is a long way from that mouldy hotel room in Fraser's Hill drinking myself senseless and wondering how to end it.

I gotta peaceful easy feeling
I know you wont let me down
Cos I'm already standing
On the ground.

Saturday, July 12, 2008

I Could Have Danced All Night

So there I was with a map in my lap, desperately trying to negotiate unfamiliar roads. In Setapak. Which is like, beyond the boondocks. Zafrul had a shoot at nine in the morning and I was already late. I got to the place indicated on the map. But it didn't look right. I mean, I was supposed to get to an old folk's home. And these were flats. Not a house. Surely, it would be a house.

So I get right out of there, turn tentatively into another road and find myself in a kampung. I mean, like literally. I drive as cautiously as I can trying not to run down baby chicks who were not smart enough to get out of my way.

Then I pull over on the verge and take out my map for another look. I read the address carefully and slap my forehead. Goddamn! It's a flat. I'm supposed to have gone to a flat. That first place was the right place after all. Now how to get out of this mess. I drive around a bit. U-turn. Nearly land up in a drain. And then, find my way out and get to the flats in question. Where's there's like a big sign saying...Nascom. The place I want to get to. Which I didn't notice the first time around.

I get out of the car and sprint towards the flat in question. Huh! Luckily I am dressed down in jeans and Birkies. I get there and see the contestants who smile a good morning...and the boss, well, he's not there to scold me cos he is driving around somewhere loster than me.

Anyways, after waiting a while, texting him to find out where he is and finally calling him, I, with the help of the human GPS, Kim, realise that he has missed a crucial turning and gone miles out of his way and needs to turn back. We take the car out to the traffic light he missed, wait for him to turn in and then lead him miles and miles into the interior, to this God-forsaken place...where we rush for the shoot. The sun is blazing and it's not long before his shirt is clinging to him like a second skin. Throw in an ear wax impaction, and you do not have a happy bunny.

What with all the offscreen drama, I don't get to have the meeting with him that I was supposed to, to clear some outstanding office business. Trying to get a meeting with this man is like trying to get an autograph off Juliet Cynthia Jacobs. Not exactly the easiest thing in the world. So I say...but, we need to go through such and such...and running, he says...OK, can you meet me at Carcosa at 2?

I nod and get there at one. After which I text the boss to tell him I'm there waiting for him (as if his life didn't have enough pressure) and he's forced to rush his business to be there as quickly as possible. (The good thing about all this is that we get to clear business at hand). He is there for some KLBC meeting or other and his friends start arriving and rock up to interrupt...he says, give me a minute, need to clear some work, please give me a minute, OK? And they clear off obligingly. That's the nice thing about accountants...they're so civilized, y'know.

And there's a lot more stuff...but it's 1.39 now and I'm tired and I just can't wait to be king. Oh no wait, it's I just can't wait to get to bed....

Bed, bed, I couldn't go to bed
My head's too light to try to set it down
Sleep, sleep, I couldn't sleep tonight
Not for all the jewels in the crown....

Tuesday, July 08, 2008


I seem to have taken a vacation from reality...last night I was baking a brownie and I fell fast asleep and woke up to pull out the burnt crusty thing from the oven...and my hands were heavy with sleep and I nearly dropped everything. But don't worry, it was not burnt all through. Just the top part, which you could remove without anyone being the wiser.

I met Ambikah for lunch today and brought along a few pieces for her edification. She broke off a little for a taste. Then a little more. Then a little more...we were at Angel Cake House and they looked at us askance for eating cake not of their making...but she tipped them generously. I think she likes the brownies.

Dadda is talking in his sleep now....I don't know what he just said.

And I saw Addy later and she said she would love some dessert. Anything chocolatey. My kind of girl, I say.

There was yoga today and my Yoga Nazi was in a good mood. Splendid. He wasn't too tough on us and I barely broke a sweat. Although we did some heavy breathing on purpose. Kapalabathi or some such thing which involves forced exhalations.

I also got to hang out with Stephanie the artist today and I love her house because it is full of her paintings and I love her paintings because they are all the colours of happy.

I'm not making any dessert tonight. I need to take a shower and stretch out on the sofa and maybe watch a DVD or maybe fall asleep or maybe just lie there and drift.

Nothing is real.

I can't make it real.

Friday, July 04, 2008

Sweets for the Sweet

A fresh chocolate raspberry streusel bar reposes on the counter. I just made it. It will be our dessert for the next week. And if it should finish halfway, as I expect it to do, I will make another one. I got enough ingredients to do so....muahahahahaha!

Last week, it was chocolate chip cookies. The week before that, fresh lemon curd cake. You can say that I've been baking with zest. To say nothing of chocolate chips, raspberry jam, lemons, butter, sugar and flour. Lots of flour. I love the way my belly jiggles softly as I enter the room about 10 minutes after it. It's good to play drums on. Thwack, thwack, thwack. (Yeah, yoga notwithstanding)

But considering I only bake when I'm happy (sort of), I feel that everything is pleasant and nice and buttery and chocolatey and coated with honey.

I have strange dreams at night, but that must be because of the books I've been reading. Yeah, there was this one with a glass window and waves that slammed against said window and broke it threatening to overwhelm me as I stood watching in helpless fascination thinking - wow, how beautiful, strange and terrible and beautiful...

Anyway, back to desserts. My friends have taken to avoiding me. Or tying themselves up in knots trying to tell me politely (so as to not hurt my feelings, you know how sensitive I get) that no, please, they don't want anymore cake, and don't ask them again, like ever, have I noticed how nothing fits anymore and get away from me, you temptress, you devil incarnate...NOOOOOOOOOO!

So I laugh (because I'm so happy for no particular reason) and just leave my goodies at home, where we will have them with our tea every day...Dadda likes to have something for tea, and now there is always something. The chocolate chip cookies are not nearly finished (although I must say Julie did her best, polishing off half a tin, in one short day) and now there's a chocolate raspberry streusel bar. And the ingredients for another crsb in the fridge. As well as the fixin's for a hazelnut white dark chocolate brownie. Yum!

And my friends say, stay away from me you devil. So I smile, lick my fingers and say...OK whatever. And some point out delicately that dear, dear Jenn, you are moving towards embonpoint, not to say fat, well OK, fat....maybe you should cut down a little dear.

And I laugh and wave and cram my mouth full of cake and sing yummy yummy yummy I got love in my tummy....

So am I evil?

Or simply misguided?